


Transitioning Definitions

by Gnb_rules



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Idiots in Love, M/M, Season/Series 08, sexual orientation crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25812745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gnb_rules/pseuds/Gnb_rules
Summary: Cas doesn't want to be Dean's brother, and Dean doesn't want Cas to stand so close to him. Dean 2nd person perspective. Set a little bit after the return from Season 8 Purgatory, but ignores any Naomi mind-jacking. Establishing Destiel, featuring Dean realizing some things about himself.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Transitioning Definitions

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Supernatural fic, written while I was watching season 8, before catching up on the series. It's cross-posted at ff.net, but I'd like to have all my SPN fics here as well. Reading, kudos, and comments always appreciated!

You're not gay, but Cas is standing awfully close to you (again) and your stomach is in weird knots and he smells kind of – good? If you've told him once, then you've told him a thousand times, not to stand so damn close. You have definitely been clear that humans need personal space, but you're pretty sure he's stopped listening to you. Which is weird, right, because you haven't seen him stand this close to Sammy in a long time.

You step back slightly, just to get him out of your face. Cas has been acting weird lately, well _weirder_ , and it's strange timing because you really thought that you were finally on good terms again. You've been through Purgatory together, and eventually both came out if not perfectly intact, at least sane. You've been friendly enough, you've even openly forgiven him for _most_ of the terrible crap he pulled. You know he can't forgive himself still, but really, who can? It's probably punishment enough. You're just happy (unbelievably happy) he's alive.

Cas really saved your neck while you were out on this latest case. During drinks after, after Sam had found a girl who was giving him the eye, and it was just the two of you, you tipsily told Cas how much he means to you (again). He's family, like a brother, you said.

And then suddenly Cas gave you a look and, damn him, disappeared into thin air as he always does. You were annoyed and if you're being totally honest, a little hurt. You hoped he might feel the same, that he might admit that you're his family, too. And now he's back after four days of radio silence, and he's standing too close, and you're a little tempted to give him a solid punch to the gut for ditching you.

"We need to talk," says Cas softly.

The anger melts, replaced by the familiar sense of fear. This can mean nothing good.

"Okay. What is it Cas? Something wrong?"

"Yes, very," he says.

You wait, and wait, and when he fails to elaborate – "Okay, and? Spill it, Cas!"

"I'm not like your family, Dean," he says firmly. "I don't want to be your brother."

You expected him to tell you about new apocalypses that need to be averted, or some awful witchy mojo running rampant, or that there were more civil wars in Heaven. Not this. You don't care, obviously, but it hurts more than it should.

"Well, alright then, Cas," you say, and turn away from the angel so he can't see the pain and anger in your face.

"Dean."

In spite of yourself, the rage is full and present in your voice, even obvious enough for someone like Cas to notice. "I get it, Cas. You think we can't be family because you're an angel, and that automatically makes you stronger and better. How does Crowley put it? We're just your…pets."

"No, of course not, Dean. That's not it at all."

You swivel on the spot, frustration making your fists clench.

"Then what is it, Cas, and why should I give a damn since clearly you _don't_?"

Cas runs a hand over his face, looking supremely agitated. "I'm not good at this, Dean! I don't know how it works. I didn't know I was capable of feeling this and wanting…what I want."

Alright, now you're totally fucking lost. "What?"

He steps closer and you try to step back but you're against a wall now, and isn't this familiar? Your back is _always_ against a wall, and now it's Cas that put you there. Feels like a memory, or a dream you never let yourself remember. His face is just inches from yours and you want to tell him to step back, step down, step away but you don't.

You can feel his breath on your skin.

"I don't want to be like a brother to you," Cas repeats. And then he rests his forehead against yours and _you know_. Forehead-touching is never quite platonic in the movies. Certainly never brotherly.

Maybe he's lost his mind again. Maybe you both have, because you have yet to push him away.

And you stay like that, together, for maybe five long seconds that feel like days. Until Cas pulls away of his own accord. Part of you thinks that he just wanted to feel close to you. Just for a moment. "I'm sorry, Dean. I know you're not interested in the male form. Or me, specifically."

It clicks into place, and sets your heart to racing in entirely new and disturbing ways.

And you're not gay, so you should be able to agree with him, should be able to say, _Sorry Cas, you're a great friend but I'm just not like that, I hope you understand._

 _You're not gay, but it's fine if he is. It's just a little crush born of confusion, loneliness, and shared near- death experiences. He'll get over this; you'll even be his wingman and help him find what he's looking for, if that's what he wants._ That's what you should say.

But you don't.

Because you're not gay, and yet you felt a surge of disappointment when he pulled his face away from yours. Specifically his lips away from yours. And you're not gay, but he looks good in that stupid trench coat, and he smells good, and maybe you want to feel close to him too. Just for a moment.

And you're not gay, but your hand is suddenly on Cas's cheek and you're seriously considering kissing him, and he's looking at you with that squinty-eyed confusion which is possibly the cutest damn thing you've ever seen.

Well, shit.

Because it feels nicer than you thought it would to bridge the gap and finally just kiss him, even though you'd swear to Heaven and Hell that you never thought about it before this.

Your mind goes pleasantly blank, because Cas is kissing you back now, all soft lips and warmth and _him_.

There's a rushing sense of joy in your very bones, a contentment you haven't known in a long time. You'd be more than happy to let this last forever, but Cas pulls away from you once again, although more reluctantly this time. "Dean. Are you sure?" he asks.

You shrug a little. "Hell if I know," you say, and you lean forward to kiss him again.

"Wait. Stop," Cas says. "I don't think we should do this if you're not sure. I've done some research and found that it's incredibly important to receive verbal, enthusiastic consent in these types of situations."

You stare at him and let out a nervous chuckle. "…Verbal enthusiastic consent? I mean, accurate, but not your typical pick-up line. And you're saying you did research for, like, this specific situation? How long have you felt this way, Cas?"

It's his turn to shrug. "Long enough to feel reasonably sure that it isn't going away. And yes, I did research. I wanted to be prepared, just in case. But I honestly didn't think…are you interested in this, Dean?"

"I don't know, Cas. I'm not even sure I know what this is."

"Imagine how I feel, Dean. Angels don't usually…fraternize in this way…with humans. But I'd like to try to find out – if you're – if there's any chance here."

You look at him, really look at him, and remember all you've been through together. The hell, the heaven, the apocalypse, the betrayals, the death and destruction. Saving each other, fighting for each other. The trust he gives you, the faith you put in him time and time again. The way you have always had this nagging, irrepressible sense that he belongs by your side, wherever you are. That he belongs with you.

"Okay," you hear yourself say.

"Okay," he says. Then he squints at you again. "Wait, so you are consenting?"

"Oh for the love of – yes, Cas, yes, alright?" And you kiss him hard then, just to make it clear, and he kisses you back and where did he learn this? You wonder if he's been watching porn again, which is a train of thought you're not sure you're ready to follow.

Cas is warm and real and feels distressingly good against you.

And you're not gay, but you're quickly realizing that you might not be _entirely_ straight.

Oh, and that you're probably in love with an angel.


End file.
